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sad poem

quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
nei loro regimentals ragged
quando vado di nuovo a terra
la festività reale è stata fatta
la mia anima è un campo arato scuro
appena come mie barrette su queste chiavi
non ho saputo mai che la terra ha avuta così tanto oro
tutto l'mio amore per il mio dolce

 



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